Certain Events
by Also Sprach Mina
Summary: There are events that can only be explained by fate, dreams, or anything in between. This happens to be the story of a certain event. Sam/Aiden *OMC*
1. Prologue

**Certain Events**,_ a Supernatural fanfiction_

**Synopsis**: There are events that can only be explained by fate, dreams, or anything in between. This happens to be the story of a certain event. Sam/Aiden (OMC)

**Characters**: Sam W. & Dean W.

**Author's notes**: Well, well. My very first SPN fanfic. I must say, I'm rather excited. Hopefully, you guys (the readers) will enjoy it as much as I have while writing it. Before we start, I want to get this across: if you don't like yaoi (male/male relationships) or male slash—**DON'T READ OR LEAVE FLAMES**. That is very childish on your part. Anyway, onward **HO! **_– ASM_

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_00. Prologue_

On a cloudy day, a young man walks into his home after unlocking the door; taking off his coat. He calls out for his mother...only to look in horror as she lies at the bottom of the stairs, blood pooling around her twitching body.

"Mom!" he cries out, running over to her.

She gasps softly, blood trickling from the corner of her slightly pale lips. The young man, trembling, takes his cell phone out of his pocket and dials 911. He hears the phone ring before the operator picks up. A woman's voice answers.

"911, what is your emergency, please—"

"Uh-! My mom! She's bleeding and—oh god, there's so much blood...please send somebody!"

"Calm down, sir," the operator says in a calm and soothing voice. "What is your address?"

The young man takes a shaky breath as tears stream down his face. "1220 Black River Lane, please hurry..."

The brunette woman looks up at her son with glazed green eyes. She can sense the fear in her son's voice. Not to mention her once warm body was becoming colder and colder.

He's grown so much, she thinks, and yet...

"Ah," she manages to say. Cloudy blue eyes meet her glazed green ones. "Mom, don't talk, okay? E-everything's gonna be fine." He touches the side of her cheek as blood continues to dribble out of her mouth.

"Aiden..."

More tears stain the boy's face. He glances back to the door, hearing sirens. The sounds seem so far off. He turns his head back to his mother. The boy doesn't even feel or see the knife plunging into his chest. He looks down to see the silver blade, crimson red staining the once clean steel and the white shirt he wears. A sharp pain twists into his chest.

"M-mom...?"

"I'm so...sorry, baby..."

The light fades from his mother's eyes as the blond boy falls back. He stares at the ceiling, the sirens coming closer and growing louder in pitch. His vision becomes blurred. All he could think of was...

_**Why?**_

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  


Elsewhere, a man watches the current news on television. A grim look crosses his face as the female reporter speaks. "The peace in this quiet neighborhood was shattered when sirens wailed through the air," she said. "A young man and his mother were brutally attacked in broad daylight..."

The man closes his weary dark eyes before the special report continues.

"It is unknown of their conditions at this time, but we will keep you updated."

With that, he turns off the television and looks to his phone beside him. He sighs heavily then flips open the phone, dialing a number. He hears the voicemail pick up before he speaks.

"Go to Midland, Michigan, and visit the nearby hospital for someone named Bridgestone".

He hangs up, laying the phone beside him again. He couldn't leave. The search for _her _murderer was still on, as long as the bastard was still out there.

"You were careless, Katie..."

* * *

**Note from the Author**: Hope you liked the prologue. The real story starts soon...


	2. For Whom the Bell Tolls

_01. For Whom the Bell Tolls_

[Dreams = _Italics_]

_

* * *

_

**- Midland, Michigan – Mid-afternoon**

The news shook the small neighborhood of Blackriver Lane. A killer was wondering the streets, after attacking that woman and her son. Women of the neighborhood gossiped, firmly believing it was an ex-lover of the woman's. He was angry at her for leaving with their baby and lashed out rather violently.

It was ridiculous, really—no one knew much about them, that woman and her son. They kept to themselves and the boy was a sweet, gentle soul. The gossip the women spoke of seemed cruel; mean-spirited.

But the question still remained: who would attack them so ruthlessly?

* * *

At the nearby hospital of Mid-Michigan Medical, two men dressed in well-pressed black suits stepped up to the front desk.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

The red-haired woman looked up from her computer. One of the men—a foot or so shorter than the taller man beside him—took something out of his coat and flashed the shiny badge to her. Her green eyes widened.

"We're with the FBI," he said quickly flashing his white teeth as the man beside him showed her his badge. "I'm Agent Striker and this is my partner, Agent Summers." The two men placed their badges away. "We're here to see someone named Bridgestone?"

The woman, obviously a nurse, looked at them solemnly before shaking her head. "I see you heard about the attack. Katherine Bridgestone," she said, "didn't make it. Her wounds were so severe." Striker frowned lightly while Summers let out a deep sigh. "But her son survived the attack."

"Son?" Agent Summers echoed. "She has a son?"

Looking though the archives on the computer, the red-haired nurse nodded. "Yes. He just got out of surgery two hours ago." The taller man looked at his partner who looked back at him with the same dose of confusion written on his face.

"I see," Agent Striker murmured. "Could give us his room number?"

The nurse looked at them as she sighed gently. "The boy's been through a lot..."

The taller man nodded. "We understand. We'll be brief." He watched her take out a notepad from her coat pocket and quickly scribbled down the room number.

"Room 606," she said once she was done. "It's on the second floor."

The men nod as Agent Striker took the paper with a smile. "Thank you, miss." Agent Summers smiled as well before following after his departing partner. Once they were out of sight, the shorter man ran a hand through his short dark brown hair irritably.

"He didn't say nothing about her havin' a kid," Striker groaned. He loosed his blue tie a bit, feeling it become tighter.

Summers sighed as well, loosening his red tie. "Or dying. We'll just ask him some questions and figure out what to do next." Striker looked at the neat yet messy handwriting on the paper. He grinned rather amorously.

"That nurse _was_ cute, wasn't she?"

The taller man rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Just can't help yourself, huh?"

Elsewhere in the hospital, he laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room. The white tile seemed to mock him of his predicament...although, he wasn't sure how or why the tile mocked him. Maybe it was the painkillers the doctor added to the IV drip in his arm. Cloudy blue eyes closed tiredly as a soft sigh escaped his dry, pale lips. He reached up to finger the bandage on his chest, a choked sob breaking the endless silence of the dimly lit room.

* * *

A knock came from his door.

Then another.

He sat up slowly before coughing. "Come in," he managed to croak out. He watched as two men stepped into the room. Their suits were clean-pressed; the taller of the two showing him his badge and immediately put it away.

"Are you Katherine Bridgestone's son?" he asked.

Moving pale blond bangs from his face, he nodded slowly. "Yeah." He watched the second man pull up a chair by the bed, taking out a notepad. "I'm Agent Striker, and the tall guy is my partner, Agent Summers. We're going to ask you a few questions—"

"Look," the young man stated firmly. "I already talked with the police. Why would the Feds want to talk with me about my mother's death?"

The man sitting beside him stared at him with a startled look before composing himself. "We have reason to believe that you and your mother were attacked by a dangerous individual that we're looking for."

The young man scoffed, folding his arms across his chest only to wince in pain. He hissed lightly as he held his chest. He managed to scowl at them before leaning back against the pillows. "That...whoever it was killed my mother in cold blood." He felt burning tears well up in his eyes. "And..."

The taller man looked at him, closing his green eyes. "If you don't want to talk about you mother, we understand." Striker turned to look at him as if he said something alarming. The blond boy glanced at the men before sighing lightly.

"Alright. What is it you want to know?" he asked.

"For starters," Summers said, "we want to know about your mom's history."

He looked off to the side, rubbing the bandage on his chest slowly. "She was...well, she kept to herself mostly. Although, she did give me a..." The blond boy bit his cracked bottom lip in thought.

"A what?" the other man beside him questioned.

He looked up at the agents with a blank, if not confused stare. "She gave me a knife when I was seven." The two men looked at each other as the blond blinked. "What? Yeah, I know it's not normal...but she did it anyway."

Summers shook his shaggy head lightly then stepped up to the bed by his partner. "Is there anything else? Do you think your mother knew the killer?"

Rubbing at his tired eyes, the blond shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. The door was locked so...I guess." He looked up at the tall man. "But to the subject of you guys again...why would the FBI-of all people-is interested in my mom's death?"

Striker looked up from writing in his notepad. He chuckled nervously as the blond boy stared at him. "Well, you see—"

"As we said before, it's possible that your mother's attacker is a dangerous individual," Summers said. "But from what we can see, the local police can handle the suspect."

Pale blue eyes watched the taller man's deep green before nodding. "I suppose." He laid back against the pillows, rubbing at his head. Striker stood up and placed his notepad away in his coat. He held out his hand to the blond boy. "Thank you for speaking with us...um..."

He reached up, grabbing the agent's hand and shook it gently. "It's Aiden, sir," he said with a brief smile. Striker nodded lightly before stepping away to the door. Summers had taken out his own notepad and wrote down something quickly on the paper.

"Here," he said handing it to Aiden. "Just in case you need anything, call me."

The blond looked over the paper then smiled tiredly. "I usually don't take numbers, Agent Summers...but thank you."

He blinked at the young man before him as he briefly heard Striker snort at the door. He murmured "thank you" and turned to the door. Aiden watched his back then turned his head to the wall, grinning madly.

Walking out of the young man's room, the taller man closed the door. He looked up at his partner who smirked at him; his white teeth taking up half his face.

"What?" he asked annoyed. "Why the hell are you smiling like that?"

"Giving numbers out to total strangers, man? And a _guy_, no less!"

Summers stepped away from the door, scowling as he walked down the hallway. "I'm sure he was just messing with me and nothing more." Striker scoffed only to look away once the taller man looked over his shoulder darkly.

Jerk.

* * *

Downstairs of the hospital, the two agents walked into the morgue as they flashed their badges and introduced themselves. The doctor looked at them curiously. "Oh, hello, agents," he said with a gentle voice. "How may I help you?"

"We're here to see the body of Katherine Bridgestone," Striker said.

With a brief nod, the doctor showed them to the examining table where a body underneath the soft white sheet laid. He moved the sheet down to show the calm features of Katherine's face. She had long brown hair that sat along her shoulders. Gray streaks moved along her hairline and sides of her head.

"How'd she die?"

The doctor sighed gently as he took the chart from the woman's feet and handed it to Summers. "She died from a total of 42 stab wounds to the chest and midsection," he said. "From what I've examined of her body, it looks to me that she was beaten and then stabbed, but not before fighting back. Her arms and hands show defensive marks."

Striker grimaced as he looked over the chart once his partner was done. "Did she take any drugs or anything prior to her death?"

"The toxicology report hasn't come back yet. But I was told by her psychiatrist—"

The taller man looked to the doctor. "Wait, she visited a shrink?"

He nodded at him briefly before looking to Katherine's motionless face, eyes closed. "Yes. She had prescriptions for anxiety, depression, and even post-traumatic stress medication." He glanced at Striker who whistled randomly. "Yes, it's strange. But with this woman, everything's a mystery. Even to her closest friends."

"I don't get it," Summers said once they left the morgue. "She's stabbed over thirty times and, in the moment of death, she stabs her only son in the chest."

Striker shrugged lightly. "You heard the doc. She was messed up just as bad as the rest of us. And she wasn't even huntin'. Then again, she could've been hallucinating, thinking that she stabbed her attacker."

With a sigh, the taller man stopped to rub the back of his head. "This is ridiculous...why would Dad call us to come out here?"

* * *

_He stood in a surrounding darkness, feeling for anything he could touch. He took a cautionary step forward then another. Taking a few more steps, he stopped as his bare feet landed in something wet. It felt sticky and warm, the mere thought of what it could be made his stomach turn with disgust. He was then blinded by a bright light that shone down on him from above._

_"Will you inherit the blood?" a voice asked._

_He had brought up his arms to shield his eyes as he lowered them slowly. He turned his gaze back to the floor, blue eyes widening at the sight. There, in a pool of blood, laid his mother Katherine. Her green eyes gazed upwards...empty._

_The voice spoke once more. "Will you inherit the blood?" Aiden backed away, slipping on the bloodied floor and falling onto his backside. "I...I..."_

_He felt a strong hand suddenly grip his right shoulder tightly as he spun around to look behind him. Standing in front of him was a man with burning yellow eyes, his face hidden in shadow. A sense of dread filled him to the core, his blue eyes going wide._

_Why did this man scare him so?_

_Moreover, could people have _**yellow eyes**_?_

_"There you are," the man spoke grinning maliciously. "Your dear mommy wasn't nice." The man had short blond hair and deathly pale skin. His hands—and the large kitchen knife—were covered in blood. He continued to grin._

_"But now, I've found you..." The man let out a harsh laugh which echoed around them. Aiden brought up his now bloody hands to cover his ears. Stinging pain shot through his chest as he gasped suddenly, clutching at his chest. Blue eyes glanced down to see blood staining the front of his hospital gown; more red pouring onto his hands._

_"Aiden..."_

_"...Mom?"_

_He turned to look over his shoulder, pale blue eyes widening in fear. She twitched; coughing up blood. "I'm so sorry, baby.." She reached out to him slowly as he let out a horrific scream..._

* * *

Aiden sat up in the hospital bed, breathing heavily. He clutched at his chest as sweat trickled down his forehead and throat; messy bangs clinging to his damp skin. He shivered visibly, relieved that he didn't seem to alert anyone with his scream. He looked down at his hospital gown and—seeing no blood; his stitches still in place—Aiden let out a breath of relief.

He licked his dry lips as he climbed out of the bed, steadying himself once his bare feet hit the cold tile floor. The room itself was mildly cold but enough so to cause a chill to run down his spine. He wandered to the bathroom and turned on the light. When his eyes looked into the mirror, he saw that his once bright, gentle eyes were dim; unfocused. His skin was paler than it usually was. A frown crept onto his face.

Aiden opened up his gown from the back, letting it slip down his shoulders. He grimaced at the bandaged area on his chest. His fingertips ghosted over the tape slowly.

How could she do such a thing?

_Stabbing your own __**child**__?_

He gripped his open gown tightly as a disturbed yet saddened look came over his face. The bathroom, and the hospital room also, became just a little bit colder.

* * *

**Notes from the Author**: I can give you a guess on who the two agents were and the references. Anyway, if you have any criticism, I would love to hear it. And reviews are much loved. Chapter Two is on its way.


	3. Fade to Black, Part 1

**Author's note: It's been a while since I last updated anything, and I apologize for it. Work and real life have not been kind to little ol' me. Expect more updates spontaneously.**

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_02. Fade to Black, Part 1_

The next morning, Aiden sat in the doctor's office. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a red jacket. Beside him was a blond woman, her hair tied back in a loose bun. She wore a burgundy sweater with khaki pants. The doctor they spoke with was named Richard Lee, who wore glasses and kept his black hair neatly cut.

"Good morning, Aiden," he said sitting down at his desk. He folded his hands in front of him as he smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, sir," he answered with a nod. "It doesn't really hurt anymore.."

Richard smiled warmly as he wrote out a small note on his notepad. "Well, don't get so excited, young man. You're still healing. Here," he said handing the blond woman beside Aiden a paper. "I've written out some pain killers for him."

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. She took the paper from the good doctor, reading it over. Aiden fingered at the necklace around his neck. He stared down at the floor with a far-off look. The dream from last night bothered him; a grimace coming over his face. He was grateful to have gotten any sleep. The blond man didn't seem to hear the woman beside him – his aunt – call his name.

"Aiden?"

He turned to her in surprise, seeing a worried look etched on her face. "You okay, sweetie?" she asked in concern. Aiden nodded quickly.

"Yeah. I'm alright."

Dr. Lee started at the young man briefly before clearing his throat. They turned to look at him as he smiled. "Now, I suggest you get plenty of rest, Aiden."

He smiled again then nodded lightly, looking down at his necklace again. The blond woman watched her nephew as her blue-green eyes softened. She couldn't help the light frown that adorned her face.

After their talk with the doctor, Aiden and his aunt walked to the front lobby desk and began signing the release papers. Dr. Lee deemed that he was well enough (physically) to go home with his aunt. But Aunt Miranda believed otherwise. She looked up to the doors as police officers kept the awaiting news reporters at bay. She sighed gently then turned to Aiden; his blue eyes glued on the doors.

"It'll be alright, honey," she said placing a hand on his shoulder. He suddenly tensed up once she touched him as he nodded slowly.

"Let's just go," he murmured. He pulled the hood over his head and shouldered his backpack. Miranda gave her nephew a once over again before placing her arm around his shoulders gently.

Once they stepped out the hospital doors, the reports immediately pounced on them, asking a plethora of questions that Aiden didn't seem to catch. The police held the news reporters back as they yelled to "move" and "clear the way"; upon which, they didn't seem to care.

"Mr. Bridgestone, we have a few questions!" most of them asked loudly over the voices of the officers pushing them back.

"Do you know the attacker?" one reporter – a man with short brown hair – asked, shoving the recorder at the blond man.

"Did your mother participate in illegal activities? Was the attacker a jilted lover?"

Miranda held Aiden close, shielding him as he hid his face in his hood. He felt his eyes burn with tears. He clutched at his aunt's sweater shirt, eyes closing tightly.

Why did it have to be_ them_?

Why did it happen to **him**?

Nearby, agents Striker and Summers watched in their black Impala. The blond man was ushered into a blue Dodge Durango as the reporters practically circled the vehicle. Striker couldn't help the dark scowl crawl on his face.

"Damn vultures," he hissed. "Every single one of 'em. As if the kid didn't feel bad enough.."

Summers watched his partner shake his head before speaking. "They could be here because of the rumors," he said. "I overheard the waitress at the café earlier—"

"The brunette, right? She had a nice a—"

"Dude. Enough." The shaggy haired man rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "But yeah, that girl. Apparently there's some gossip going on that Aiden killed his mom or that Katherine had some lover who was angry with her – it's ridiculous, really."

Striker looked at his partner with a raised eyebrow. "I thought he came home and she was already like that?"

"As I said, with rumors and gossips, you never know."

The dark-haired man sighed irritably as he sat up to see the blue SUV speed away from the parking lot and upset reporters. Starting his "baby", Striker followed after them; the speakers playing some rock music – much to Summers' dismay.

As the Durango rode down the street and came to a stop at a red light, Miranda drummed her fingertips against the steering wheel. Aiden had pressed himself into the passenger seat and window, the red hood of his jacket still pulled over his head. Blue, almost dark, eyes stared out the window. It was cloudy again and a bit chilly than normal. He closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against the cool glass.

His aunt had turned her gaze to him, a tear falling from her blue-green eyes only to wipe it away quickly. She would have to tell her nephew sooner or later the truth about his mother. The light turned green as she pulled away, turning to the left on 4th Street. Miranda looked up at her rearview mirror. Her soft eyes narrowed, seeing a black 1967 Chevy Impala behind her.

_Why did that car look familiar...?_

Turning the Durango onto Blackriver Lane, she glanced up to see the car follow suit. She sighed lightly then looked over to her sister's home; the doorway covered in bright yellow tape that read "caution". A female reporter stood in front of the house as police officers search the front and back yard for any more clues. She heard movement beside her. Aiden had sat up to look at the house with a solemn face.

Seeing enough, he turned his head away; not hiding the pained look on his gentle features. Not even his home was sacred anymore.

The blond woman drove a few houses down before pulling into the driveway of a green ranch house. She turned to her nephew who took off his hood. "We're here, Aiden," she said with a brief smile.

He nodded lightly as he stepped out the car warily as Miranda parked the SUV and cut off the engine. Grabbing his bag from the back seat, his aunt walked him to the front door then unlocked and pushed open the door. Aiden walked inside as he immediately found the couch, sprawling over the cushions. The blond woman smiled at the sight once she closed the door.

But outside, a woman watched from the other side of the street. Her hair was black, tied in a ponytail and wore a gothic ensemble. Her deep hazel eyes narrowed as a hateful smirk came over her face. She blinked once, her eyes now an empty black; irises and sclera both..

"Are you hungry, Aiden?" asked Miranda as she watched him take off his tennis shoes. He shook his head slowly then looked up at her.

"No, Aunt Miranda. I'm..." He paused for a moment before smiling lightly. "..okay." The young man laid back down on the couch, resting his head against the throw pillow. She set her purse down on the table in front of him as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Alright, then we'll have tea."

She chuckled lightly once he gave his response: a simple thumbs-up and a tired smile. Turning to the kitchen, she walked in and grabbed two coffee cups from the dish rack. Miranda set the cups on the counter then moved to grab the tea— a box of Lipton tea —from the drawer near the refrigerator. The kettle was taken from the bottom cabinet and filled with cool water.

While his aunt made tea, Aiden decided to watch a little bit of mind-numbing television. He flipped through the channels before deciding to settle on an always confusing episode of...SpongeBob. He huffed lightly.

22 years old, and watching _SpongeBob _of all cartoons. He could have done better.

He lifted his head as the doorbell rang. Miranda poked her head out the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron (she had put it on in the kitchen, Aiden assumed). She walked to the front door and opened it. "Oh, hello," the young man heard her say. She sounded surprised, if not intrigued. He heard familiar voices introducing themselves to her. Aiden sat up suddenly.

Why were they here?

Agents Striker and Summers stepped into view, blue eyes blinking slowly. The taller man looked to him as green eyes stared at him. The blond man let a slight grin come onto his face; Summers scowling all of a sudden. "Um...agents." His aunt had closed the door and locked it, stepping over to them. " How can we help you?"

"Hey, I answered your questions!" Aiden said abruptly.

Summers cleared his throat. "We're here to question your aunt about your mother, if that's okay."

Aiden stared at them briefly before frowning gently. Miranda stared at Striker for a moment then stepped closer towards him, the brown-haired man rearing his head back. "..Ma'am?" She scowled lightly before stepping back to fold her arms across her chest.

"Were you following me earlier?" she asked sternly. The two agents looked at each other nervously.

Striker spoke first. "Oh, well—you see, we were escorting you back to your house. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

She shrugged lightly.

"Mm, no, it's not," the blond woman said tapping her finger to her chin. "But I've seen that car before. So, let me ask you this: you wouldn't happen to be John Winchester's boy, are you?"

Striker's face drained of color along with Summers who stared at the suddenly defiant woman. All Aiden could really do was blink in confusion.

Again.

**Note from the author**: As you can see, it's rather long, so it was made into a two-part chapter...or possibly three.. And if you got confused by the chapter, I'm sorry for doing so; I'll rewrite it whenever I get a chance to. Reviews are loved (yet again) and so is criticism.


	4. Fade to Black, Part 2

_03. Fade to Black, Part 2_

After the awkward silence, Miranda had sat the two "agents" down on the love seat; facing the couch where she and Aiden were. She had placed two cups of tea down in front of her. Both of the men stared at the cups as if she poured poison in the drinks before serving them.

"Your names, please?" she asked sipping from her own cup. The two men stared at her as she gave out her demand. Striker began to speak only to flinch once she stared back at him coldly.

He frowned, clearing his throat. "...I'm Dean, John's oldest," he revealed, "and he's Sam, my brother." Summers—or rather Sam –nodded in agreement.

She nodded at them and set her cup down on the table in front of her. Aiden watched his aunt then looked to the two brothers. He gripped his hand closed as he bit his bottom lip. "So... you're _not_ real FBI guys," he murmured.

Sam looked at him and shook his head slowly, a solemn look on his oddly gentle face. "No. I'm sorry."

Aiden gulped down the lump in his throat and looked at the table with a crestfallen face. Miranda rubbed his shoulder gently, looking at the two men. Moving a loose strand from her face, she cleared her throat.

"Is John here?"

"No," Dean said loosening his red tie as he murmured softly. "He's... missing."

A surprised look came over her face before she closed her blue-green eyes. She sighed lightly. "I see. Well, I suppose I can't be mad at you two." The brothers looked at her then at themselves. Sam shrugged his shoulders once the dark blond gave him a strange look.

"I'm curious to know how you know our father," the shaggy-haired man questioned. "And that you knew we were his sons."

Opening her eyes, Miranda raised an eyebrow as she grinned. She folded her arms across her chest. "It's obvious when you look at your older brother here. Dean's the spitting image of your Dad." The older brother scoffed lightly in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his head.

Aiden looked to his aunt in both confusion and surprise. "But Aunt Miranda, how do you know their dad? Did Mom know him?"

The blond woman turned her gaze to her nephew's, seeing the confusion written on his young face and blue eyes searching for answers. She placed a hand on his shoulder gently. "Baby...you know the monsters that go bump in the night? The horror stories?"

He nodded in response. "Yeah... but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Aiden, they're **real**," Miranda said.

The blond boy let a frown come over his face. Did his aunt go off the deep end now?

"Aunt Miranda, what the hell are you talking about?" Aiden asked with a slight chuckle. "The boogeyman's real? I suppose there are little high school girls running around fighting monsters in mini-skirts too?"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation as the two brothers blinked at the younger man's words. "It's the truth, Aiden. Everything you saw in horror movies and books; ghosts, vampires, everything—they're all real."

"Except for the girls in mini-skirts," Dean added. "That's not real." He chuckled softly, turning to look at his younger brother. Sam stared at him in disbelief only to shake his head.

"What?"

"But I still don't understand," the blond boy echoed throwing up his hands. "What does this have to do with my mom's death?"

Sensing her nephew's distress, Miranda held his shoulder gently as he turned to look at her. "Your mother was a hunter. She fought against the monsters in the dark up until she met your father," she explained. She turned to the Winchester boys with a frown. "And your father is a close friend of hers. It annoys me that he's not here with you boys."

Dean looked down at his mug of tea then back up at Miranda who drank from her own cup. "I think he knows. He wanted us to come here, find out about Katherine's death."

The blond woman stared at him for a few moments before nodding, a warm smile slowly growing on her face. "I see. Well, whenever you find him, tell him thank you."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

As Miranda waved Dean and Sam off from the front door, Aiden moved to the guest bedroom; a deep frown adorning his round face. He huffed once he landed on the bed and hissed once the sharp pain of his wound made him sit up suddenly.

"Ow-ow-ow, damnit," he hissed clutching at his shirt. "Damned painkillers..."

He jumped when he saw his aunt standing in the doorway, arms across her chest. The blond boy chuckled nervously. Miranda sighed and made her way to the bed. "I leave you alone for 5 seconds and you hurt yourself."

"Hey, just so you know, the** bed** hurt _me_. It's the other way around."

She chuckled softly as she reached down to unzip his bag, taking out a small Ziploc bag and a first aid kit from the nightstand. Aiden watched her briefly then turned his head to the side. Lifting his shirt, Miranda peeled off the bandage gently before wincing at the irritated wound. It was red around the stitches; a small amount of blood appearing from the stitches.

As she cleaned the wound with a damp towel, Aiden watched her with a stoic face. "Do all Hunters lie, Aunt Miranda?"

The blond woman lifted her head to look at her nephew then sighed gently. "Don't be bitter at those boys," she told him. "They did what they had to do."

Aiden shook his head, frowning. "But why would Mom hide this from me? Even you knew about all this Hunter business."

The blond boy scowled darkly once Miranda wiped down the stitched wound with a medical wipe and placed a clean bandage over it. She stood up, sitting down beside him as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders gently.

"We were protecting you," she said patting his shoulder. "Katie didn't want you growing up in the lifestyle of hunting like she did." Aiden looked at her while the blond woman had a solemn look on her face. He bit his bottom lip, looking away.

"Were you a Hunter too?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Miranda nodded in response as she moved hair from her face. "I was, for a time, helping your mother with her "jobs". But those days... are long gone."

She looked at her nephew, his head lowered; gaze watching his hands intently. Aiden's shoulders shook gently. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Crap," he muttered while wiping his tears away. "I... why'd she stab me then?"

The blond woman's blue-green eyes softened as she pulled him closer into an embrace. Her eyes closed once his choked sobs filled the air. Aiden clutched her waist, his face hidden in her chest.

'_I don't know,'_ she thought sadly. Miranda stroked his hair gently in an attempt to comfort her nephew. _'I just don't know anymore...'  
_

* * *

**Author's note**: Sorry if this chapter took a bit longer than expected to be (and it's short too!). Already working on chapters 4 and 5 as we speak. Reviews are loved and so is criticism on Aiden and Miranda's personality.


	5. Fade to Black, Part 3

_04. Fade to Black, Part 3_

"So, what now?"

Arriving back at their room at a local hotel dubbed _"The Endless Sleep"_, Dean Winchester flopped down on his bed with a grunt as he took off his tie. The sun was already setting behind the buildings and trees, the night fast approaching. His brother Sam closed the door behind him once he was inside. He looked to the blond man who kicked off his shoes against the gaudy colored floor—which he believed was a sort of green color.

"We could try calling Dad again," he said sitting down at the circular table near the window. "Ask about Aiden's mom."

Taking out his cell phone from his coat pocket, Dean looked through the "all calls" list before dialing a certain number. The line rang once, twice; a total of three times only to have the voicemail answer instead of the voice he wanted to hear. He frowned lightly.

"Dad, it's Dean. I was calling to ask if you knew anything about Katherine Bridgestone, something that could help us out at all. Call me back."

Sam watched his brother close his phone, murmuring softly. The shaggy-haired man took off his own tie as Dean was already changing out of his stuffy suit and into more comfortable clothing. The brothers would figure out what was wrong; why their father called them to see the Bridgestone family.

Could it be that he was worried?

He groaned in frustration, his thoughts getting him no answers. The blond man looked over after pulling a t-shirt on as he raised a dark eyebrow.

"Hey, don't bust a vein over there, Sammy." Dean soon grinned once Sam scowled at him darkly.

"Again, it's _**Sam**_," he seethed. His scowl grew only deeper as his brother burst into laughter.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

At Miranda Haines' home, Aiden moved from the guest room to the living room as he laid on the couch as he stared at his phone. The remaining sunlight cast dark shadows in the living room that seemed to dance along the floor and walls. He sat up and reached into his jeans pocket, taking out a wadded piece of paper.

It was Sam's number from earlier in the hospital.

_- Call me if you need anything, okay? -_

Blue eyes blinked a few times before he added the number to his contact list on his phone. He murmured under his breath as he stood up, running his fingers through his hair. Aiden moved to the stairs; duffel bag in tow. He figured he might as well sleep—there was nothing really to do. Miranda told him that she would be calling people about his mother's death.

His mother...

She would always speak about dying—either by suicide or murder—whenever she was feeling depressed. It was unsettling for a child to hear something like that.

Did hunting monsters change her?

Once in the guest room, Aiden laid down on the blue bedspread, resting his head against the soft pillow. He huffed lightly before sitting up to look through his duffel bag sitting against the nightstand as he pulled out a small Ziploc bag. Inside of the bag were 2 orange bottles filled with blue and white pills—pain and trauma medication, from what Miranda had told him. The blond man fingered the bandage through his shirt gently, absentmindedly as he closed his eyes.

I guess I can nap until dinner, Aiden thought. Lying down on the bed after putting the medication back into his duffel bag, he turned his gaze towards the ceiling. His blue eyes began to droop slowly and – soon after—he had already slipped into slumber..

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

_He lies on top of an altar, dressed in a black robe. His short, unkempt blond locks spread around his head. A look of distress comes over his sleeping, gentle face before a large pale hand caresses his cheek slowly. He lets out a low whimper from his lips as he clutches at the biting cold stone that is the altar._

_Cold.._

_He opens his eyes slowly, his vision focusing on the blurry figure above him. A pair of yellow eyes came into view as cloudy blue eyes widen considerably; his body going stock still._

_"Don't be scared, dear boy," the shadowy figure spoke in that same grating voice. "Inherit your cursed blood."_

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  


Sitting up quickly, Aiden gasped; eyes wide. He scanned the room with a haunted look on his face before ducking over the edge of the bed to look underneath. Nothing. The blond man leapt—literally—off the mattress and stepped to the closet, opening it. It was empty besides the few clothes that Miranda kept as a "storage space". He clutched at his chest tightly, sighing a breath of relief. Just a dream, he thought calming himself.

He made his way back to the bed and sat down, sighing softly. Aiden gasped softly with a wince before lifting his shirt to see a bit of blood seeping through the bandage. "Ow," he murmured. Reaching over to his bag, he rummaged through it and took out the Ziploc bag.

The sweet smell of prime rib and mashed potatoes filled the air; his phone reading 6:15pm. His stomach growled loudly as Aiden frowned deeply. He hadn't eaten an actual meal in a day or two.

With a small grunt, the blond man stood up and wandered out of the guest room towards the dining room. Miranda had looked up from the table as she placed a plate of gravy-drizzled ribs in the middle, seeing Aiden stand at the doorway. She smiled warmly. "Did you sleep alright?" she asked.

He nodded briefly, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah. Smells good."

The blond woman beamed and folded her arms across her chest, looking to the dinner she had cooked: mashed potatoes, boneless prime ribs, biscuits, and corn—all in their individual plates and bowls. "Just the way you like, honey."

He grinned widely and stepped over to the table. "Awesome," he murmured trying not to drool. "But first, go wash your hands." Miranda held up a finger as the blond man tried to sit down. He pouted before standing up.

"I'm not four, Aunt Miranda."

"Yes, well, you're 22-years-old—therefore, adults need to wash their hands," she retorted. The blond woman "shooed" Aiden out of the dining room then went back into the kitchen. With a slight scowl, he wandered to the bathroom and turned on the light. He washed his hands silently as the blond man looked at his face in the mirror before him.

Some color returned to his cheeks, but he was still ridiculously pale—what he believed to be "too pale", anyway. Aiden sighed softly and turned off the water, drying off his hands with a paper towel from beside the sink. He lifted his gaze from the floor once he heard the doorbell ring. Sticking his head out of the bathroom, a confused stare was written on Aiden's face as he watched Miranda walk to the front door and opened it.

"Yes?" she asked politely once she opened the door. A young dark-haired woman stood on her doorstep; black bangs hiding her face.

"Can I speak with Aiden?" the girl asked in a strange voice. 'It's really... important."

Miranda's blue-green eyes widened once the girl lifted her head to look at her. Her eyes—completely black—were filled with malice as she grinned.

_Oh, no._

She immediately shut the door only to have it blown off its hinges, making her cry out and fall against the carpet; hitting her head against the end table by the door. The dark-haired girl stepped inside like a sentinel as she glanced down at the fallen woman. Miranda clutched at her bleeding forehead, looking up at the girl. "Not very nice to shut the door in a guest's face. I suggest you let me speak to him."

"Aunt Miranda!" Aiden cried out in horror from the hallway.

"Aiden, stay back!"

Snapping her head up to meet the blond man's frightened face, the dark-haired girl grinned once more. "His words don't lie," she said suddenly kicking Miranda in her side as she stepped over the broken door. "You've grown handsomely."

The blond woman groaned, clutching at the side of her face. She coughed once she rolled over on her side. Aiden bristled with anger and charged the girl with a harsh yell. She merely smirked. Sidestepping as he swung a right hook at her, she brought up her fist, effectively punching the man in the jaw. He yelled out in surprise; feeling himself take flight and land back first on the living room table.

Aiden gasped from the wind being knocked out of him—along with the throbbing pain in his jaw. She was incredibly strong for a woman who looked no older than he was. The dark-haired girl walked over to him, her hands on her shapely hips. "Does it hurt, sweet baby?" she asked in a mocking voice. He groaned, sitting up as she stood over him. With a sadistic smirk adorning her pretty face, she grabbed Aiden roughly by his hair and pulled him up to his feet.

He yelled out, grabbing her wrist tightly as he hissed in pain. "Bitch, let go...!"

She giggled madly while she watched the blond man twist in her unusually tight grip on his hair. A shrill whistle caught her attention as she turned her head towards Miranda... and got a face full of water. Steam rose from her face—and upper body—as she screeched in pain, letting go of Aiden. He immediately kicked the dark-haired girl away, stepping back to stare at the steam rising off her.

"Aiden!" Miranda yelled, breaking him out of his reverie. He turned to his aunt and ran over once the intruder curse angrily, clutching at his chest. The blond woman pulled her nephew along as they ran into her bedroom. Aiden hissed in pain, standing near the bed while Miranda shut the door; placing a chair underneath the doorknob. She let out a moan of pain and held her side tightly.

"Aunt...Miranda," the blond man hissed through gritted teeth. "Who the fuck is that?" He watched his aunt move over to her nightstand, opening the drawer. She rummaged through it for a moment and took out a leather bag.

"That, Aiden, is a demon."

"A... what now?"

Miranda glanced up at Aiden in a mixture of pain and annoyance as she took out a container filled with a white substance then a black handgun. "A _demon_, baby," she stated once more. "I don't know why it's even here, though..." She motioned to the closet near the window while she poured the contents of the container—salt—over the threshold of the door. "Look in the closet. There should be a weapon inside!"

Aiden nodded as he moved to the closet and opened the door. Looking through his aunt's clothes, he reached further back to grab a leathery handle. He pulled the object out and clutched the handle of a silver baseball bat. It had numerous strange symbols along the length of it—some of which the blond man was certain were words, but couldn't make it out. He turned his head to the door suddenly as a scream—filled with a mixture of pain and anger—tore through the house. Miranda frowned darkly. "Someone's pissed," she seethed throwing the container to the side.

Her nephew reached into his jeans pocket and took out his cellphone, quickly dialing a familiar number. The line rang twice before it picked up. "Hello?"

"Sam?" Aiden said in a shaky voice. "This is Aiden, and uh—" He nearly leapt into the air once several loud bangs bounced off the bedroom door. "There's this girl here, she tried to fuck me and Aunt Miranda up... and god, she's like the fricking Hulk!"

"Wait, calm down," Sam said calmly. "What's going on?"

The blond man looked to Miranda as she loaded bullets into her handgun, looking to the door warily. "Dude, I'm being serious right now. She has—she has _black eyes_...!" Aiden yelped when the chair flew towards the wall and promptly broke apart. The dark-haired girl punched through the wooden door only to screech in pain, clutching her arm. She glared at the door; the salt stopping her from entering.

"Salt barrier, bitch," Miranda smirked.

The girl scowled at her then glanced to the blond man. A smile came over her face. He gulped lightly, not hearing Sam's voice call out his name over the phone. "Aiden! Are you there? Answer me!"

"...She's smiling at me," he murmured.

The dark-haired girl continued to stare at Aiden before chuckling darkly. Miranda pointed her gun at her as her chuckle turned into insane laughter, which erupted from her pale lips. "You have _no_ idea, sweet baby..."

"Aiden, you and your aunt just hang tight," the younger Winchester said. ."We're on our way—" The line suddenly went dead. Aiden stared at his cellphone in shock. No service—nothing.

"See, sweet baby? You... have every right to be scared."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Wait, a demon? _Here?_" Dean asked incredulously.

"Just get in the car!" He scowled at his younger brother barking an order at him but listened nonetheless. Getting into the black Impala, he started the engine as it roared to light and sped out of the hotel parking lot.

What the hell was going on?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The girl grinned wider as she held out her hand. Miranda instinctively shot the girl's palm, only to be thrown back by an unseen force. She hit the wall and let out a pained yell. Aiden watched his aunt slide down the wall before holding out the bat in front of him. The dark-haired girl raised an eyebrow at him. She caught a slight tremble from his hands then chuckled.

"Gonna hit little ol' me, sweet baby?"

"Fuck you," he snarled out. Miranda groaned softly from the wall, making Aiden glance at her before turning his gaze back at the intruder. "Why are you doing this?"

She glanced down at the salt lining the doorway and looked back up at the blond man."Your mother," she began, "was a whore of a hunter."

Aiden's cloudy blue eyes widened in shock. "...What did you just say?"

The dark-haired girl grinned. "Your Mommy was a whore, I said. What, you can't hear now?"

Belting out a harsh yell, Aiden ran forward and leapt over the threshold as he swung the bat at the girl's head. She ducked down then stepped back; the bat itself hitting the doorframe with a resounding thud. She grinned once more, seeing the impact crack the doorframe. The blond man lifted the baseball bat and swung at her, growling angrily when she moved out of the way in time. He charged at her, dragging the weapon against the wall before swinging it down, hitting the intruder in her thigh.

The dark-haired girl cried out, her pain quickly changing to anger as she seethed at Aiden. "You little-!" She gasped once he jabbed the bat into her stomach. She grabbed hold of his face in retaliation and shoved him into the wall, pushing his face into the wall. "You can't handle me, sweet baby!" She pushed his face harder before chuckling darkly. Aiden hissed in pain then managed to push himself back against her, her grip loosening. He elbowed the dark-haired girl hard in her ribs as he turned and kicked her into the living room.

She fell onto her back, coughing violently before pulling herself up somewhat. Damn her accursed meat sack; so weak and breakable...

Looking up at the blond man, he stood over her, his breathing uneven and eyes holding uncontrollable rage. He slammed the bat by her head suddenly—she had flinched from the attack as she stared up at Aiden. "My mom... wasn't a whore," he managed to say. "Why.. who the hell do you think you are?" The dark-haired girl grinned a bloody smile at him.

"A simple girl... who watched your precious mommy die."

His eyes widened once more as he screamed, raising the bat over his head. Aiden barely registered voices calling out for him to stop before something heavy collided against him; knocking him to the floor along with the weapon. The blond man—eyes closed shut-struggled against the new attacker, growling and punching at them.

"**No!** Don't interfere!" he heard the girl screech.

"Sam, douse the water on her!"

Aiden opened his eyes and looked up to see Dean straddling his waist, holding his wrists tightly; his attention focused on the action behind him. Sam threw a flask of holy water on the dark-haired girl as she let out another scream of pain, clutching at her face. She cursed loudly towards the siblings. "Damn you! _**DAMN YOU!**_" Thrashing about suddenly, she threw her head back and screamed once more; a black smoke plume flying out of her mouth and out the open door. The girl's body stopped in its ministrations soon after, her head lolling to the side.

"...Is she dead?" Aiden asked after seeing the strange event.

The taller man moved over and felt for her pulse on her neck then her right wrist. He shook his head slowly. "No, still breathing but barely..."

Letting go of his wrists, Dean stood up as he pulled Aiden to stand. He noticed the boy trembling before placing a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder. "Hey." Cloudy blue eyes—the anger receding from them-met deep blue ones. "You're okay. And your aunt is too, the old girl." The blond man gasped then looked at the hallway to see Miranda walk towards them, hand against her side.

"I'm not _that _old," she scowled matter of factly. "I'm only 43." Aiden smiled slightly while the dark-blond man rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. Her scowl soon turned into a look of seriousness as she looked to the dark-haired girl. Sam looked at Miranda in concern. "I'm surprised, to tell you the truth. She was possessed—how we don't know right now—but why would she attack you like this?"

The blond man's eyes narrowed before he closed his eyes. "She... she said she saw Mom die," he said opening his eyes. He wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth then looked back at the unconscious girl. "And..." He trailed off, watching the body of the female intruder warily.

"She kept calling him sweet baby and that someone was looking for him," Miranda said.

Dean looked to Aiden as he stared at the dark-haired girl's body, standing stock still. He shook the blond man slightly and made him look to the older man. "I'm... okay." He fingered at his pendant around his neck then nodded to himself slowly. "Aunt Miranda... I want to know. The truth, I mean." Aiden looked at the blond woman who now had a surprised, if not shocked, look on her face. "Will you let me?"

After a moment of taking in his words, Miranda sighed deeply; an unintelligible murmur escaping her lips. She walked over to her nephew as she touched his face gently. "..Are you sure?" she asked him in obvious concern. "Me and your mother... we didn't want you following us in our footsteps."

"_Please_."

The blond woman immediately pulled Aiden into her arms and ran her fingers against his hair, resting her head against his. Even though they were in pain, it didn't stop them from hugging. "I don't want you to leave. Not like this," she murmured. "But...if you really want to, then it's alright." She looked to the Winchester boys as a stern look came over her face. "You two are still searching for John, right?"

Sam stared at Miranda for a moment then brought up his hands, shaking his head. "Wait, you can't be serious. Aiden's just a kid—"

"A kid who just lost his mother to some sick weirdo or something!" the blond man cried out. "And, since I last noticed, you're just a kid yourself." The brown-haired man blinked before turning a heated glare at Dean once he heard him snort under his breath. "I want to know why she was killed. I'm pissed that she didn't tell me about her other activity, but she had good reason, I guess."

The dark blond man frowned slightly, turning his head to the open door as sirens began to fill the air. He sighed. "Damn it. Alright, kid."

Later, outside of Miranda's house, the bright lights of police cars illuminated the street, the chatter of police radios piercing the night air. The blond woman sat in the back of an ambulance as she spoke to an officer while the unconscious dark-haired girl was loaded into a second ambulance. Aiden watched nearby, leaning against the hood of the black Impala. The blond woman nodded a t the officer and looked up at her nephew. He stared at her; she smiled briefly before his line of sight was interrupted by a waving hand.

"Sir, would you like to answer a few questions?"

He looked to his left at a female officer then looked to his tennis shoes with a scowl. Sam moved around the side of the car and touched Aiden's shoulder gently. "Sorry, he's still shaken up," he said. The officer looked up at the taller man, pushing up her glasses. Dean looked on from Aiden's right.

"Well, I need to know his side of the story. We only have his aunt's story."

Shrugging off Sam's hand, the blond man looked up at the female officer as he took in a deep breath. "She came into the house, beat the hell out of me and my aunt. She started saying some crap about how she saw my mom die so I fought her back." He sniffed, watching the woman write down what he said in her notepad. "Is that enough, Ms. Officer?"

"I see," she said with a brief nod. "Thank you, Mr. Bridgestone." She put her notepad away and walked to her squad car as Miranda walked past. She stepped up to the boys, fingering her new bandage against her head.

"So, what's the story?" Dean asked.

"She was hopped up on drugs—LSD or something. Something strong enough to jack up her strength, take a door right off its hinges and to punch through another door," the blond woman said folding her arms. "I'm planning on staying the night with an friend while they fix my front door."

"What about your weapons?" the taller man asked raising an eyebrow. "They'll find it, won't they?" She chuckled gently. "That's the thing; they won't."

Aiden fidgeted visibly, catching the others' attention. "What if she says that she was possessed?" His aunt shook her head. "Then they'll think of her as crazy. I doubt she would remember the time of her possession." He nodded slowly before looking down at his tennis shoes again. Miranda looked at him worriedly.

"Listen. Aiden, are you sure you want to leave?" she asked. "It may look bad, but I already have a story set up if you do leave."

The Winchester boys looked at Aiden who looked up at her once more. "Yes," he answered. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm gonna go with them and get my stuff in the morning." The blond woman nodded gently before looking at the brothers, smiling sadly. "Take care of my nephew, you two. Or I'll give you hell for it."

"Yes,'m." They nodded as Miranda pulled Aiden into a light hug, kissing the top of his head lightly. "Stay safe. Text or call me when you can. I'll answer any question you need, okay?" He nodded against her chest before pulling away and wiped at his eyes with his jacket sleeve. Dean nodded to the blond woman, getting inside the Impala's driver seat while Sam climbed into the passenger seat.

Aiden climbed into the back seat, closing the door. He looked to Miranda and placed a hand against the window as the car roared to life. The blond woman blew a kiss to her nephew, waving once the vehicle pulled away. He waved back and turned around to look out the back window.

'_Stay safe, Aiden... I hope the truth you seek helps in some way...'_

* * *

**Author's Note**: Well now. That was a very, VERY long chapter—but it's done! I made a few changes to the chapter; that's why it took a long time to finish. If anyone has any questions about this chapter, ask in your reviews or just private message me. Until then, see you next update!


	6. Chapter 4 Epilogue

_04-1. Fade to Black, Epilogue_

Arriving back at the _Endless Sleep_ hotel, Dean unlocked the door of their room and stepped inside. He let Aiden walk inside while Sam closed the door. The older brother stretched as he groaned audibly. "Damn, kid, you know how to hit," he said rubbing at his neck and chin. The blond man stood in the center of the room before looking down.

"...Sorry."

"Dean'll be fine," Sam told him sitting down on his made-up bed. "He whines, but he's tougher than he looks."

He grinned once the dark blond man scowled at him before taking off his boots, kicking them at the foot of his own bed. Aiden glanced around the room as he murmured softly. A small efficient television was near the window; the curtains themselves closed and lit by the blaring lime-green neon light outside from the sign. Dean looked over at the blond as he sat down.

"Hey, you can sit down. We're not gonna bite you." He watched his eyes widen and quickly scampered to sit on the gaudy green floor. The dark-blond man stared at Aiden. "I meant on the beds or at that table."

"Now that you mention it, we could've gotten Aiden a room," Sam said taking off his shoes.

The blond man shook his head quickly. "No... it's fine. I'm just...nervous, that's all." He rubbed at his arms before listening to his stomach growl loudly. _That's right..._ He still hadn't eaten anything. He whined as he pulled his hood over his head. The Winchester brothers looked at Aiden then at each other.

"Hey... you hungry?"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Later, at a diner, Aiden sat at a booth with the two brothers as he chomped down on a large cheeseburger. The diner—affectionately named the Eat and Meet-was designed in the 1950's soda shop fashion. It even had a fully functioning jukebox against the back wall. Sam stared at the younger man practically swallowing his meal before chuckling to himself. He looked up at the brown-haired man, sipping on his Sprite before frowning.

"What's so funny?" he asked munching down more fries.

"I've never seen someone eat like you do. Well, besides Dean, but you have a good reason to eat like that."

Dean turned his head to stare at the side of his younger brother's head dismissively. "Hey, when I see a really good burger like that, I have to eat it. The same goes for pie. Fricking love pie." He rolled his blue eyes and drank his beer, motioning Aiden to continue to eat. "You go ahead an' eat to your heart's content, kiddo."

He smiled slightly before finishing off his cheeseburger and attacked the fries. Sam shook his head as he drank his beer also. "So," the blond man spoke with his mouth somewhat full. "What pies do you like?"

"Too damn many to count," Dean grinned widely. "Why, you want some? Does this place even carry it?"

Aiden lifted his head, pointing to the menu card near Sam's left hand. "It's in here. I always come here whenever I get a chance," he said before frowning gently. He drank his Sprite then pushed his plate away. "But after tomorrow, I guess I won't be here so often." The brothers looked at him silently; Dean eventually tearing his gaze away to look through the menu.

"Hey, come on. You want some ice cream? With sprinkles?"

"...Dean, he's not little," the brown-haired man irritably. The dark-blond man raised an eyebrow before pointing at Sam. "That's why you're not getting any dessert." Aiden watched them for a moment as they began to argue and smiled slightly. He looked down at his plate only to jump back against his seat, stopping the brothers' argument over ice cream. Sam looked at Aiden's plate then back at the blond's face. His face had gone pale; eyes wide as dinner plates.

"Aiden? You alright?" the brown-haired man asked in concern.

"Bet he ate too fast," Dean muttered under his breath, drinking his beer again.

Aiden suddenly gagged and leapt out of his seat, running to the bathroom. Sam stared after him as his older brother looked at him again. "See?"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Back at the hotel room, Aiden laid on Dean's bed spread with a towel over his closed eyes. He mewled tiredly before letting out a soft groan. The older Winchester looked back at him over his shoulder before turning his gaze back to the television. He flipped through a couple of shows—one about four middle-aged women in the city and another about a kid trapped in an alternate dimension—as he settled on softcore porn. He stared at the screen before tearing his gaze away once Sam walked inside with a small paper bag.

"About time you got back," the dark-blond said. "I was gettin' bored."

The taller man set the bag down on the nightstand, taking out a bottle of antiemetic—Dolasetron—and looked to Dean with a raised eyebrow. "So I'm assuming you guys didn't talk while I went to go get medicine and watched porn?" He saw a huge grin come over his brother's face only to shake his head in exasperation.

"Forget I even asked," Sam sighed.

"But you did," Dean pointed out. "So yes, Sammy. Me and Aiden watched porn while waiting for you."

Aiden murmured in his slumber as Sam shook his shoulder gently. He whined, turning his head to the side. He looked down at him for a moment and shook him again; getting an annoyed grunt in response. "Aiden, I got some medicine for you." The blond man curled up, making a sort of mewling noise in his throat. Dean looked back at him in surprise. "...Aiden?"

"...hnn?"

Moving the towel away from his face, he looked up into green eyes that stared down at him. Aiden sat up somewhat as he looked to the older Winchester. Why was he staring? He rubbed his face tiredly; taking the pills Sam had already shook out from the bottle. He murmured before taking the pills and downing a quick gulp of water from a bottle of water Dean got from the vending machine outside.

"Did you sleep alright?" Dean asked. He leaned forward to poke Aiden in his cheek. "You made a cat noise just now."

He stared at the dark-blond man, a wide grin coming onto his face. Sam simply sighed and shook his head. The blond turned his gaze up to the other man with a startled look. "Did I really?" The younger Winchester nodded as Aiden—embarrassed-fell back against the pillows; Dean laughing heartily. "Oh god, please tell me I didn't."

"You did. I mean, I tried to wake you up to take the medicine and you..." Sam scratched at his own cheek, looking off to the side. "...well, you _mewled_, dude and curled up."

"I thought it was kinda cute," the dark blond said making both Aiden and the brunette man stare at him in surprise. "What?" He watched the blond's cheeks turn pink and covered his face with his hands. Sam sighed again before sitting down on his bed. Aiden murmured softly as he pulled his hands away from his face; the three of them sitting in awkward silence.

"Hey... if we leave tomorrow, are we gonna do this? Like sit and stare at each other?" he finally asked.

Dean scratched at the light stubble on his chin before standing up. "After something like this, we usually just leave. I figured you needed to...y'know, cope with leaving." He shrugged once Sam looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Anyway, I'm taking a shower. You two—obviously looking like nerds—can talk." With that said, Dean waltzed to the bathroom as the two younger men stared after him; the bathroom door closing.

"Is he always like that?" Aiden asked the younger Winchester.

"He can be a jerk, but he means well. I guess."

Sam shrugged before looking at the blond sitting in his brother's bed across from him. His face seemed really pale, and the dark rings underneath his eyes seemed to have come back. The brunette man found himself staring a bit too long as he turned his head to the floor. "That was your first run in with a monster, huh? I'm still surprised you super-charged her."

The blond shrugged his shoulders slightly. "She... called my mom a whore. I wanna find out the truth, but..."

"But what?" the younger Winchester asked, curious.

"I won't be here to see her funeral," Aiden whispered. A lone tear ran down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away with his jacket sleeve. Sam had to look at the blond only to look down. He knew the pain he was going through; he was still getting over his girlfriend's death and had left suddenly, not attending her funeral.

Aiden sniffed before looking over at the brunette. His face had a detached look, green eyes glazing over somewhat; his shoulders were somewhat slumped downwards. The blond moved a hand through his hair slowly as the two sat in silence. Briefly, they could hear the water running in the bathroom while Dean showered. Aiden huffed. Sam lifted his head once the blond man climbed out of his older brother's bed and moved over to him.

"Something wrong?" the brunette asked looking up at him.

"Well... I was curious." He sat down beside the younger Winchester, looking at the floor. "Do you guys have any strange dreams? Or waking dreams?" Aiden saw Sam fold his arms before looking at him in concern.

"So, back at the diner," the brunette began to say.

"I thought I saw maggots in my food," the blond said with a disgusted look. "That's why I threw up earlier."

Sam nodded gently as he looked down at the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck before continuing to speak. "I have dreams too. Weird ones." His green eyes narrowed slightly. "I had a dream about my girlfriend's death... and she died not too long ago."

The blond man looked at the brunette who lowered his head and glared at the gaudy green floor. Aiden moved his hand towards Sam's only to jump once the bathroom door slammed open. They both looked up as Dean sauntered into the room-wearing only a towel around his waist-and rummaged around in his duffel bag. He looked over at them before standing up, holding a pair of boxers. "Ya'll wanna take a picture? It'll last longer."

Sam rolled his eyes and stood up. "Are you done already? I hope you didn't use up all the hot water."

"No, princess, I didn't. It's all there," the dark-blond said pulling on his boxers underneath his towel. "Maybe." He grinned at Aiden who looked away as he changed. "Hey now. We're all men here."

"Well, I was being polite, and I don't really know you—"

"Not to mention nobody needs to see all that," Sam stated standing up. His older brother scoffed, taking off his towel to throw it back into the bathroom. He flexed his muscles, grinning all the while. "Says Sammy, kiddo. I'm fricking sexy."

Aiden blinked at the older Winchester and burst out laughing once he was hit in the face with the younger brother's shirt, nearly falling over. Sam looked over at the younger man as he grinned.

"You're laughing."

The lighter blond looked to Sam with a startled look, his laughter and smile vanishing. He looked down at his lap before closing his tired cloudy blue eyes. He looked back up to look at the brunette once more. "...Thank you. I—" Aiden looked away from Dean when he began to get dressed in his night wear—a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. "...I needed a laugh after all this—after all_ that_, I mean." He shrugged lightly.

"Well, kid," the older Winchester said sitting down on his own bed. Near his bed and the nightstand was a small red cooler. Opening it, he reached inside to take two bottles of beer. "You'll need a bunch of laughs if you're coming with us." Dean handed a bottle to Sam—who took it with a small nod-before reaching inside to grab another. He handed the third one to Aiden.

He pouted lightly, staring at the foreign object—cold and wet with melting ice—in the man's hand. He glanced up at Dean's face. Blue eyes stared at cloudy ones passively before being startled by Sam opening his bottle. Aiden reached out to grab the bottle, feeling the light perspiration already forming along the bottle's neck.

"I'll do what it takes," he murmured snapping off the metal cap from the cold bottle. "I'll do what it takes in order to learn the truth." Turning up the bottle, he drank from its contents slowly before groaning at the slight burn of the aftertaste. Sam looked at Aiden with a quiet stare then drank from his own bottle.

He understood what the younger man was going through.

The death of his mother, nearly being killed that night... everything. The brown-haired man took another swig of his own beer.

The truth would come.

He hoped.

* * *

**Notes from the Author**: I didn't think I would get this done, in light of the circumstances—work and many other things. But I am happy to say that Chapter 5 is in the works. Now, if only I can find the transcripts... *skitters off*


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